Broadway Magic
by Athalia
Summary: How dorky am I? Harry Potter characters sing their versions of show tunes. Now up- "Gryfindors" sung by Snape, to the tune of "Little Girls."
1. The Introduction

Here it is, my latest fanfiction endeavor. Harry Potter characters singing  
their versions of Broadway show tunes. I'd like to see you try and out-geek  
me now! Yes, boredom does play a large part in my life. I have a million  
song bunnies hopping around in my head, so hopefully this will be coming up  
pretty fast. There will probably be a lot from "Chicago" because I love  
that movie.  
  
Dasfidahniya,  
  
Athalia. 


	2. Scene 1: Gyfindors, Little Girls

"Gryfindors"  
  
Sung by: Severus Snape  
  
To the tune of: "Little Girls"  
  
From the musical: "Annie"  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Annie. If I did, the precocious  
little child who played Annie would have been killed a long time ago.  
  
***  
  
Paper airplanes. Fire works. Dung bombs. It never ended. The bumbling  
incompetents. A vain pulsed in Severus Snape's temple as he swooped around  
his dungeon intimidating his class. Sixth year Gryfindors and Slytherins.  
Goody.  
  
He sent a Glare of Death at Neville Longbottom and savored the terrified  
expression on the boy's face as he dropped the wrong ingredient in his  
Caribbean-Sea-turquoise potion, which should have been a deep violet by  
now.  
  
Torturing the students was his only release...that and, of course, the  
dance, but no one must know of that. Dean Thomas laughed loudly at a  
moronic joke Seamus Finnegan had just told him. Snape silenced him with a  
glare. Ron Weasley and Hermione granger bickered at the table behind them.  
Severus caught Harry Potter's eye and the brat gave him a look of purest  
loathing. On the other side of the room Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil  
giggled over some frivolous bit of gossip.  
  
Gryfindors. Slytherins were lovely. Ravenclaws he could tolerate.  
Hufflepuffs were idiots, but docile. But Gryfindors. Damn those  
Gryfindors....  
  
In a fit of passion Severus strode to the front of the classroom and began  
to sing.  
  
"Gryfindors!  
  
Gryfindors!  
  
Everywhere I turn I can see them!"  
  
As this was a tune from a musical Severus was singing, no one seemed to  
find it strange that Severus had just broken into song, because that's just  
how life is on Broadway.  
  
"Gryfindors!  
  
Gryfindors!  
  
Every day I torture and teach them!  
  
I'm an ordinary teacher  
  
With students.  
  
But I struggle to get through each class.  
  
I won't lie, I'm not the nicest guy,  
  
But still, they're such a pain in the ass!  
  
Scarlet ties,  
  
Scarlet pins,  
  
They're all Harry Potter's biggest fan."  
  
Snape glowered at the top of Weasley's vivid orange head as he looked down  
at his potion.  
  
"If I curse off  
  
Scarlet heads,  
  
Surely I'll get sent to Azkaban!  
  
Some men are surrounded by luxury,  
  
Money, and power, and whores.  
  
Lucky me! Lucky me!  
  
Look at what I'm surrounded by;  
  
Gryfindors!  
  
How I hate  
  
Gryfindors  
  
Every one  
  
Is like a cancerous tumor.  
  
I'd have cracked  
  
Years ago  
  
If it weren't for my  
  
Sense of humor!  
  
Some day  
  
I'll step on their freckles!"  
  
Severus smacked Weasley on the side of his head. He ignored Weasley's cry  
of indignation and went on staggering drunkenly around the room.  
  
"Some night  
  
I'll straighten their curls!"  
  
He pulled on a handful of Granger's hair. "Ow!" she cried, but Severus paid  
her no mind.  
  
"Send Death Eaters!  
  
Send You-Know-Who!  
  
Anything that you can do  
  
To Gryfindors!"  
  
Severus now had the class's full attention and he began to skip around the  
room as he raised his voice for the last verse of his song.  
  
"Some day I'll land in St. Mungo's!  
  
With all the loonies galore!  
  
There I'll stay, tucked away  
  
Until The Ministry prohibits  
  
Gryfindors!"  
  
Severus took a bow as his class gawked at him in quiet shock. Suddenly the  
door to the dungeon was flung open. "There he is!" cried the Headmaster,  
Albus Dumbledore, looking concerned. "Poppy, do you think you can take care  
of this?"  
  
"Of course," said Madame Pomfrey and she took Severus gently by the arm and  
led him out of the room. "Come on, dear," she said. "I think you need to  
lie down for a bit......" 


	3. Scene 2: Professor Gilderoy, Mr Cellopha...

"Professor Gilderoy"  
  
Sung by: Gilderoy Lockhart  
  
To the tune of: "Mister Cellophane"  
  
From the musical: "Chicago"  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Chicago- Alas, not mine.  
  
***  
  
I, thought Gilderoy Lockhart, looking in the full-length mirror of his new  
office at Hogwarts, am one sexy man. My pearly teeth. My silky hair. Many a  
common ugly person has been reduced to ash in the wake of my beauty.  
  
Gilderoy gathered his azure satin robes in his finely manicured hands, and  
twirled gaily in the spotlight of summer sunshine coming in through his  
window. I'm just so gosh darn pretty! he thought. So pretty I could sing.  
  
And, inevitably, he did.  
  
"When I stand up in a crowd  
  
And raise my voice up way out loud  
  
And flash a smile and toss my hair,  
  
They notice me.  
  
If someone at the Quidditch show  
  
Yelled 'There's Lockhart in the second row!'  
  
The players would fall off their brooms!  
  
They'd notice me.  
  
And even without acting like a fool  
  
My name is known far beyond this school.  
  
Most folks never have any fame, you see  
  
But not sweet and humble, unassuming, me!  
  
Gilderoy!  
  
Professor Gilderoy!  
  
The name brings ladies joy!  
  
Professor Gilderoy!  
  
Nobody looks right through me  
  
Or walks right by me  
  
Without admiring my hair!  
  
I tell ya,  
  
Gilderoy!  
  
Professor Gilderoy!  
  
Witch Weekly's Cover Boy!  
  
Professor Gilderoy!  
  
Nobody look right through me  
  
Or walks right by me  
  
Without stopping to stare!  
  
Suppose you was a sexy man!  
  
With golden hair and bright bronze tan!  
  
And azure eyes and dazzling smile!  
  
They'd notice you.  
  
Suppose you was one talented bloke  
  
Who slew zombies and saved village folk!  
  
And flew real well wrote great books!  
  
They'd notice you.  
  
I've muscle rippling on my arms and rear!  
  
This school is really lucky that I'm here!  
  
Hate to say, but I'm much better than you!  
  
I'm charming and I'm talented,  
  
And humble, too!  
  
Gilderoy!  
  
Professor Gilderoy!  
  
Like a male Helen of Troy!  
  
Professor Gilderoy!  
  
Nobody looks right through me  
  
Or walks right by me  
  
Without admiring my hair!  
  
Without admiring my hair!"  
  
Gilderoy examined his own perfect face in the mirror one more time.  
  
"I hope I'm not to sexy for my own good." 


	4. Scene 3: Potions Lessons, Anatevka

"Potions Lessons"  
  
Sung by: The Gryfindors  
  
To the tune of: "Anatevka"  
  
From the musical: "The Fiddler on the Roof"  
  
Disclaimer: None is mine. ~sigh~  
  
***  
  
Snape had yet to enter his classroom. The sixth year Gryfindors had a few  
moments of peace left to them before the start of Potions lessons. Oh,  
Potions lessons. The misery of Potions Lessons. Harry looked around at his  
fellow glum-faced Gryfindors.  
  
"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," chimed Hermione, her nose in  
her Potions text book.  
  
"Eye of newt, lung of frog, and some wool of bat."  
  
"Someone should have set a Filibuster Firework to this place years ago,"  
sang Ron.  
  
"Ingredients, a cauldron," Seamus joined them.  
  
"So what's a draught? Or a brew?"  
  
"People who pass through Potions Lessons wish they'd never come here," said  
Neville.  
  
"Our teacher's mean. The class is hard," said Harry.  
  
"What do we learn?" asked Hermione. "Nothing much  
  
In Potions Lessons."  
  
And they all got up and began to walk in a slow funeral march around the  
room, singing,  
  
"Potions Lessons, potions lessons,  
  
Difficult, tiring,  
  
Potions Lessons.  
  
Where every hour's a living hell.  
  
Potions lessons, potions lessons,  
  
Prejudiced, obstinate  
  
Potions lessons.  
  
Where none of us do all that well.  
  
Soon we'll all get F's on our latest test  
  
While Snape tells us that Slytherin's best.  
  
Oh, Potions Lessons.  
  
How we despise Potions Lessons  
  
Brings-us-down, work-a-lot, Potions lessons  
  
Damn evil teacher, damn our Potions class."  
  
"May I ask what," hissed a voice behind them, "you all think you are  
doing?" Wordlessly, the Gryfindors returned to their seats. "Twenty points  
from Gryfindor. Now if you don't mind, it's time to start class...."  
  
Later that night, Severus retreated to his closet. He snapped on a Muggle  
headset, put in one of his favorite CD's and began to sing, "Anatevka,  
Anatevka..." 


	5. Scene 4: Quidditch, Tradition

"Quidditch"  
  
Sung by: The Gryfindor Quidditch team  
  
To the tune of: "Tradition"  
  
From: "The Fiddler on the Roof" (Again, sorry.)  
  
***  
  
Fred and George Weasley were now quite convinced that Oliver Wood had  
lost his tiny little mind. By the looks on their faces, the other members  
of the Gryfindor Quidditch team seemed to be thinking close to the same  
thing. The six of them sat, drowsy and irritated, on a bench in the locker  
room as their Captain, O, Captain paced in front of them and rambled like a  
mad man. This was far worse than his usual pep talk. Whatever this was, it  
was madness. Pure madness.  
  
"A wizard on a broom," he shouted. "Sounds crazy, no? But on our  
little Gryfindor Quidditch team, you might say that every one of us is a  
wizard on a broom, trying beat Slytherin's sorry arse without breaking his  
neck. It isn't easy. You may ask, why do we stay up there if it's so  
dangerous? We stay because Gryfindor is our team. And why do we fly around  
on broomsticks? That I can tell you in one word...Quidditch."  
  
And then, inexplicably and against their will, the rest of the team  
chorused,  
  
"Quidditch! Quidditch! .....Quidditch!  
  
Quidditch! Quidditch! ......Quidditch!"  
  
"Because of Quidditch," Wood rambled on, "we've kept busy for many, many  
years. Here at Hogwarts we have traditions for everything.....how to keep,  
how to seek, how to chase, even how to wear our robes. For instance, we  
always keep our cloaks fastened like this and we also wear these little red  
rosettes....this shows our constant devotion to our team. You may ask, how  
did this tradition start? I'll tell you- I don't know. But it's about  
Quidditch....Because of our Quidditch, everyone on the team knows who he is  
and what his house expects him to do."  
  
And then, much to their horror, Wood burst into song.  
  
"Who, every match,  
  
Must scramble for the Quaffle,  
  
Thwart the opposing Chasers,  
  
Protect our team's hoops?  
  
And who has the job,  
  
As guardian of the goals,  
  
To make sure the other team can't score?"  
  
And then, scared and confused, the other six joined Wood for the chorus,  
singing heartily, yet involuntarily.  
  
"The Keeper! The Keeper! .....Quidditch!  
  
The Keeper! The Keeper! .....Quidditch!"  
  
Katie, Angelina, and Alicia leapt up and danced, singing,  
  
"Who must know the way to score a proper goal?  
  
A perfect goal? A flawless goal?  
  
Who must pass the Quaffle 'round through the game's whole,  
  
So the Seeker's free to catch the Golden Snitch?"  
  
Again, they all sang the chorus.  
  
"The Chasers! The Chasers! ......Quidditch!  
  
The Chasers! The Chasers! .......Quidditch!"  
  
Harry, wondering wildly what kind of dark magic was behind all this, jumped  
up and sang,  
  
"At eleven I joined the Quidditch team  
  
As their secret weapon.  
  
I have to chase that Golden Snitch  
  
All across..... the heavens!"  
  
"The Seeker! The Seeker! .......Quidditch!  
  
The Seeker! The Seeker! ......Quidditch!"  
  
Fred and George jumped off the bench for their verse, and prancing around  
in a rather girly manner, they sang,  
  
"Which players on the team  
  
Keep the Bludgers at bay?  
  
Using our bats to send them  
  
The opposition's way?"  
  
"The Beaters! The Beater! .....Quidditch!"  
  
"We've got two Beaters!" shouted Captain-State-the-Obvious (i.e. Wood)  
insanely.  
  
"The Beaters! The Beaters! .......Quidditch!"  
  
The whole team was up and awake now, dancing about and singing their  
respective verses in a round. Anyone looking in on them would have either  
been very frightened or would have taken pictures and used them for  
blackmail.  
  
"The Keeper!"  
  
"The Chasers!"  
  
"The Seeker!"  
  
"The Beaters!"  
  
"Quidditch!"  
  
"The Keeper!"  
  
"The Chasers!"  
  
"The Seeker!"  
  
"The Beaters!"  
  
"Quidditch!"  
  
"And in the circle of our little Quidditch team," said Wood, "we have  
always had our special types, for instance Harry, the seeker."  
  
"Oliver," said Harry, "I've got the perfect move for our next match against  
Slytherin."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"The Bat Wing Dive."  
  
"The Bat Wing? But that's kind of a stupid move. Are you sure it'll work?"  
  
"Tell the truth, Oliver, is Malfoy such a smart guy? The stupidity of that  
move and the stupidity of Malfoy, it's a perfect match!"  
  
"And Katie, Alicia, and Angelina," said Wood, "our Chasers."  
  
"Does anyone have any lip gloss?" asked Katie. "Anyone? Alicia?"  
  
"Sorry, Katie, I'm running out."  
  
"So, if you're running out, why should I suffer?"  
  
"And of course," continued Wood, "our beloved Beaters, Fred and George."  
  
"Oliver," said Fred, "can I ask you a question?"  
  
"Certainly, Fred."  
  
"Is there a proper blessing for the Minister of Magic?"  
  
"A blessing for the Minister? Of course. May God bless and keep the  
Minister...far away from us!"  
  
"And among ourselves," said Wood brightly, "we get along perfectly well. Of  
course, there was the time when Flint tried to put some sort of spell on  
our team and we couldn't decide whether it was a curse or a hex, but that's  
all settled now. Now we live in perfect harmony!"  
  
"It was a hex!" insisted Angelina.  
  
"It was a curse!" cried George.  
  
"Hex!" shouted half of the team.  
  
"Curse!" yelled the other half.  
  
"Hex!"  
  
"Curse!"  
  
"Hex!"  
  
"Curse!"  
  
"Hex!"  
  
"Curse!"  
  
Forgetting the argument, they sang in unison,  
  
"Quidditch! Quidditch! .......Quidditch!  
  
Quidditch! Quidditch! .......Quidditch!"  
  
"Quidditch," sighed Wood wistfully. "Without our Quidditch, our lives would  
be as shaky as, as..... as a wizard on a broom!"  
  
Squeezed uncomfortably inside a small red locker, Snape giggled madly,  
holding the lyrics booklet to his "Fiddler on the Roof" soundtrack CD and  
pointing his wand at the bewitched Gryfindors.  
  
Suddenly the door of the locker room opened, and there was Dumbledore, his  
figure outlined by the pink rays of dawn. In his shock, Snape dropped his  
wand and it fell to the floor and rolled to the Headmaster's feet. The  
spell was broken instantly, and the Quidditch team abruptly stopped singing  
and dancing, looking dazed and confused and massaging their sore throats.  
  
Looking in the direction of the wand's origin, Dumbledore spotted the  
slightly open locker. The tip of Snape's ample nose was poking around the  
edge of it. "There you are, Severus!" he exclaimed. "How did you ever get  
out of the Hospital Wing? You know you're not supposed to be in here! Now  
come on, we're having your favorite, snozberry muffins, for lunch today,  
even though you've been very bad."  
  
"Tradition," muttered Snape as he climbed tentatively out of the locker,  
"tradition.....tradition." 


End file.
